


Bargains and Bedbugs

by Yusariis



Series: Demon!AU [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Demon!AU, Demons, Gen, Hypnosis, M/M, Magic, Magic!AU, Mind Control, Witches, bugs tw, faustian pacts, holy fuck so many bugs, lots of bugs, posession, various magical beings, will update tags as fic updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yusariis/pseuds/Yusariis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't let the bedbugs bite.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Demons are real, magic exists, and the town of Blood Gulch, Texas has both in extraordinary abundance. When resident demon Lavernius Tucker makes a deal that entangles him in the business of a curious human named Washington, he lands himself in more than just the role of housepest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thrall, Dark, and Handsome

**Author's Note:**

> Children, I hope you sleep tight,  
> And don't let the bedbugs bite,  
> If you should die before you wake,  
> Pray good God your soul will take.
> 
> Squirrel Nut Zippers - Bedbugs

The good thing about Tucker’s job is that he can take it anywhere. He can do it anytime. It’s all to his discretion and the pay is the best you could ever ask for. But the best nights for work are at the bars, in the middle of the night, when no one’s looking.

He raises a finger and beckons, “ ‘Nother.” The bartender slides another beer his way, and he catches it with his free hand, passing his empty bottle over after he does so. Tucker twists off the bottle-cap, sets it in the ashtray nearby, and takes a long swig as some orangey kid leans against the bar.

“Hey, Grif, gimmie two,” the kid says. The bartender looks up once, and double-takes.

“Aren’t you on ‘till three? It’s not even midnight.”

The kid takes a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back. “I clocked out.”

Grif raises an eyebrow.

“…Jensen clocked out,” the kid corrects himself and shrugs. “Sooo, I clocked out.” Tucker lends an ear to the conversation between them.

Grif squints thoughtfully at his employee. “I feel like, as manager, I should be yelling at you about this.”

“I feel like a  _ good _ manager would  _ already _ be yelling at me about this, but we both know that’s not you. C’mon!” The kid lightly smacks the bar again. “Two!”

“Two  _ what _ , Bitters?”

“Two beers, two -- two cocktails, two… I dunno, what does  _ Katie _ like?” Bitters asks quickly, quieting when he mentions his co-worker’s name. Grif pauses and chews his cheek while he thinks.

Tucker, from his seat next to Bitters, takes a glance at Grif. The bartender gazed questioningly into the crowd before letting out a shit-eating laugh.

“Not you,” Grif gestures and Bitters turns from the bar to glance where Grif directs. There’s a young girl in the corner of the room, thick retainer wrapped around her head as she sat cozily with some wonky, gangly stranger dressed in slacks and a shirt similar to Grif.

“… _ Palomo _ ?” Bitters stares. “When did he clock out…?” The kid heaves a heavy sigh as Grif sets two beers down on the bar in front of him.

“Here,” the bartender says. Bitters turns to face Grif again. “I think you’re gunna need these more than she will.” Bitters quietly looks down at the beers, then stares up at his chuckling boss.

“That’s fucked up,” the kid says, “that joke was fucked up.”

“I’m pretty proud of it.” Grif pulls his arms back in a stretch and grunts softly. “And if you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a page from the Book of Bitters and clock out for the night.”

“…But, there’s no one else to tend bar,” Bitters says. Grif pauses mid-stretch and looks over.

“Yeah, there is,” he smirks. “You~. Bring those to table six, you’re on till three.”

Bitters groans loudly as Grif starts towards the door at the end of the bar. “You gave me beer and I can’t even drink it?!” Bitters yells after him, but Grif is gone behind the door. Another heavy moan follows as the kid drops his head onto the bar.

Tucker takes another swig of his own beer. “…That was fucked up,” he casually tells Bitters, who swerves to look at him… well, _bitterly_.

“Piss off,” the kid grumbles, turning away.

“What? It  _ was _ .” Tucker shrugs, beer in hand. He tilts the neck of the bottle towards the table in the corner. “Like, is that Palomo guy a hard act to follow, or...?”

“I swear to God, if you keep going--”

“Fine, fine,” he lifts his hands in surrender and returns to his beer. “All I’m trying to say is that the level of competition is kinda lacking. Like,” he gestures with his beer to the kid beside him, “look at you. You got this whole… maverick thing going for ya. Chicks dig it.”

After a beat, Bitters lifts his head, glancing his way with a raised eyebrow. “...That’s kinda gay.”

“It’s a fucking compliment, dude, calm your anus.”

Bitters ignores him and swings around on the stool to glance back towards Katie and Palomo.

“....So what’s his appeal, do ya think?” Tucker asks.

Bitters doesn’t answer him, pondering the same question.

Tucker fingers the mouth of his drink with his thumb. “He seems kinda puny,” he adds.

Bitters huffs and folds his arms.

“He  _ is _ puny.” The kid murmurs.

Tucker shifts in his spot and puts down his drink before speaking again.

“Looks like a loser.”

“ _ Total _ loser,” Bitters scoffs in agreement.

Tucker reaches over to twist the cap off of a beer in front of Bitters, picking it up and handing it towards the kid. “Bet he laughs stupid, too.”

Bitters looks him over when he says this, eyes lingering on the open beer and, after a beat, takes it.

“If stupid had a face, it’d be his,” is the kid’s reply. Bitters swirls the beer inside it before taking a long drink from the bottle, tilting his head back as far as he can get it.

“I’m kinda surprised you’re just  _ taking _ this,”  Tucker says. He’s watching Bitters who shrugs despite gripping the bottleneck tighter. He sips at his drink again. “I mean… if  _ I _ were into a chick and some scraggly loser found his way in my space….?” Tucker drops his voice down, slow and deep, “I would feel very… frustrated.”

Bitters is quiet.

“....She’s cute,” Tucker’s voice is like honey, “she’s  _ real _ cute… and he’s just gunna slip into her space? Into  _ your _ space?” Tucker leans closer to Bitters. “She probably… definitely… doesn’t want to be near him…. but that guy’s just gonna keep breathing on her like a moron until she sneaks out the bathroom window. And you’re just gunna... let him? You’re gunna let him do that to her? To you? He’s nothing... you’re the one she wants.” He hears Bitters inhale sharply, laser-focused on his fellow employees chatting at the table. “She so fuckin’ sweet,” Tucker says when they see her laugh, “too sweet to say no to the s̕ad fúck.”

“Maybe,” Bitters agrees softly, hanging on every word, his brow furrowed at the scene.

“You shouldn’t be okay with sitting over here like a sad ̧sa̛ck͏.” Tucker adds. “You waņt̢ to set this shit r̛i͏g̛ht̷. You don̸’͞t re̸ally̸ w͠a̶n̨t to shift yourself behind a bar and let her leave with t̢ha̷t sc̀hm̸u̸c҉k͞.”

“I want to set this right.” His reply is quick. Really quick.

Good.

“You know what ͠y̢ơ͜u w̴a̵͢͠n̕t̡.” He presses his words into the canal of the kid’s ear, letting them slip inside and dribble down his spine to numb the senses. He fingers the various impulses and fantasies running through the kids’ skull, searching for just the right urge to choke him with.“You w͢a͢n͡t to be ẃ͜h͝e͡re ͘͠he ͠i̶s͝.” Tucker grabs at that impulse and feels it squirm and strengthen in his grip, watches Bitters’ jaw clench. “He t̴o̢͠ò͘͞k yo̴͏ur̴̀ ́̀p̵̡̕l̀͘a̸̡c͘è͝, and you w̶an̴͏t̨́͞ it back. So, t҉ak̢͢ȩ͝ y̵͘o̴̕͢u̴̧r͘͝҉ ̀p̛͜͡l͢͠á͘c̛e ̸̡b̡ac̵k͢͝.” Pulls it towards himself, tugging and pulling like the rope on the back of a wind-up doll. “Knock some sense into him. Teach him that he shouldn’t be taking other people’s places.” Watches Bitters grind his teeth. “Go ahead - show him how wo҉̢͘ŗt̛h҉ļ͟es҉ş͡ he is.... that’s wh͟҉a͡҉͠t̷̡ ̧͡y͏ó̷͟u̧ w̸̡͡͏͞à̕͢͡n̡̨͘̕t̴҉.”

“Stupid fuck.” Bitters growls and Tucker grins cuz the kid’s as good as gold.

“G̀͢͟͡͠ò̷͢ a̸̧̛h̶e͜a͜҉͝d,” The demon says, “ḑ̕͟o̷̡ ͘͢i̡͡t͘͘.” He lets go of the string and lets it slap his doll in the back. “Do it.”

The kid is up and off the stool before he finishes, marching over to the couple in the corner with a bark of “Hey, Palomo!”

Someone gets grabbed, someone else starts yelling. The first person gets shoved up against the wall and Tucker’s third bar fight of the evening breaks out. A newly clocked-out Grif emerges from the kitchen door, spots his brawling employees and starts calling names as the bouncer gets between Bitters and Palomo.

Tucker loves his job.

“ ‘Nother~!” Tucker wiggles a finger in the air, swinging back around to the bar and is awarded not a bottle of beer, but a small glass of honey mead. Tucker heaves a long, hard sigh at the sight.

“I wanted a beer.”

“Too fucking bad.” The hand in front of him leaves the glass to lean on the bar. “Is  _ this _ really what you’ve been doing all night?” Tucker ignores the question as he frowns down at the glass. Black nails drum against the bar counter and, eventually, Tucker turns his frown up to Felix. 

“Well, that and drinking beer.”

“You’ve had plenty of that crap. Drink something worthwhile.” Felix slides the glass Tucker’s way, waiting for Tucker to take it.

“Like beer?” Tucker pushes the mead away with the back of his hand. He reaches over and grabs a new (and undelivered) beer from beside him. “ ‘Cuz I like beer.”

“We are not bargaining over beer.” Felix’s face scrunches in distaste at the thought. “That’s like writing a job resume in crayon.” Tucker pauses, breaking from the bottle to look at Felix.

“Wait, we’re bargaining, when did we start bargaining?”

“I’ve got an offer you’ll wanna hear~” Felix grins, “And once I’m done, you’ll be begging to bargain.”

Tucker rolls his eyes, twisting the cap off the bottle to take a long drink. At this point of the conversation, Felix should have realized that ignoring Felix’s crappy, over-sweetened wine was Tucker’s way of trying _not_ to barter. Even so, Tucker sets the other demon straight and says, “Buzz off, I’m having fun.”

“Ooh, you started a petty slap fight between two scrawny kids. Hilarious,” Felix scoffs, glancing over Tucker’s shoulder at the scene in question. “I see your hard work has paid off. You really let the fists fly… Oh,  _ wait a second _ , those aren’t fists, it’s just two runty babies slapping each other. At least I think it’s slapping: I can’t see a single punch between the flinching and the crying. Next time, let’s record it and we’ll compile a ‘Best of Tucker’ collection for all of Hell – we’ll  _ laugh _ .” Tucker takes a glance up towards Felix, zinger on his lips, and notes the new symbol adorning Felix’s right shoulder.

“What the fuck is that? What did you do?” Felix blinks, confused, before taking a glance towards the new tattoo.

“Oh, this?” Felix flicks black-polished nails against the mark, causing the lines to disappear then reappear again. Felix turns to Tucker, and grins from ear to ear. “The Legion I appealed to finally got off their collective asses and considered my application. If it works out, then maybe I’ll be off my ass soon, too.” Oh good, Felix is gunna get willingly brainwashed by the demon version of a Wal-Mart Union. Hoo-rah. “Granted, They’ll need an errand or two from me, first, but I expected as much. That’s why I’m here, actually… and that’s why we’re bargaining.” Felix jumps up and sits on the bar, picking up the glass of honey mead. “They’re sending me to Converge on some boring-ass information fetch.”

Converge - the local flea-market for magical shit. Demons make deals there (or they make Contracts, which are more permanent arrangements that require heftier prices) for easy feeding or status. Non-demons sell wares, buy wares, and discourage making any deals with demons.

“That’s nice,” Tucker scoffs. “Try to have fun; the Converge is boring as fuck.” At least here, Tucker could watch babies try to beat the crap out of each other.

Tucker’s been to Converge plenty of times in his couple-hundred-or-so years of life. He taste-tested the scene and got bored like most sensible demons did. The bar was full of tightly bound desires that he could feed off of -- all he had to do was rile them to reality and then watch the chaos unfold. This could manifest as bar fights, binge drinking, and sometimes it meant convincing oversexed bar-goers into rendezvousing in the bathroom (occasionally with others, occasionally with himself - occasionally both).

Waiting around to feed on scraps of feeling, it turned out, wasn’t as fun or filling as poking hot impulse into the minds of others’.

Tucker may not be a Count or a Duke or whatever -- you need way more than one completed Contract for the status level -- but he’s comfortable on his meager-class bar, with a beer in one hand and a bar fight behind him. It’s the little things in life, really.

“Well, yeah, it’s a snore,” Felix shrugs alongside the admission, “but it’s the first work I’ve had in hell knows how long that doesn’t involve kowtowing or boot-licking. See, the thing is, Legion wants me to-”

“Aaaand I’m bored, forget I asked – oh, wait, I didn’t ask. So, just go away.” Tucker returns to his beer and is rewarded with an irritated snort. There’s probably a glare too, if he bothered with looking up at Felix.

“Well,  _ fine _ then,” Felix scoffs, “and here I thought you’d be interested in the guy.” Tucker looks up. 

“What guy?”

“The one I’ve gotta stalk.” With a flick of the wrist, Felix fingers a photo into existence from thin air and wiggles it in Tucker’s direction. “He seems like your type.”

“My ‘type’?”

“Desperate... repressed...” Felix rattles off, swirling the honey mead in hand, “...ugly...”

Tucker rolls his eyes, takes the photo from Felix, and another sip of beer. He opens one eye to spare a glance at whoever it is Felix is referring to.

Immediately afterwards, the beer falls out of his mouth and back into the bottle because ugly is  _ not _ the word Tucker would have used. Tucker has quite a few words in mind, and ugly is synonymous with exactly none of them.

“Legion wants me to tail his gross ass.” So, Felix is being ordered to follow this handsome fuck and look at him. Lucky bastard. “Apparently, he’s worrying Them and They want me to get as close as possible.” Close? Luckier bastard. “Real close.” Felix is leaning in to Tucker now, and that's as close as Tucker wants Felix to get to the photo, which Tucker brings a bit closer to himself. “As close as I can get~”

“And you’re seeing him? When?” Tucker asks a little too quickly. Felix pulls back, catching Tucker’s slip-up and swirls Felix’s own glass again.

“Weeeelllll,” Felix leans on the word, lips curling into a tight little smirk before continuing, “Legion assigned  _ me _ to stake him out, not you. I’m certainly not  _ opposed _ to the help, especially considering how hard that help would be for me to get… since, y’know….” Felix gestures to the left shoulder, a large brand burned into the skin more brutally than the Legions not-yet-permanent mark on the right shoulder. There’s dark, questionably-colored ink etched painfully over the burns; a brand reserved for Liars. “But as far as They’re concerned, any information I come back with is good enough for Them, no matter where it came from, as long as They get it from me. So, here’s the pitch...”

Tucker waits and looks at Felix, showing his attention span is actually here and not just for pretend. The photo, still in his hands, slowly inches further away from Felix.

Felix continues: “You follow the ugly duckling and play the role of hired underling – I know, I know, bear with me here – and investigate whatever suspicious activities Legion’s so concerned about. I’ll present that information to Them as my own findings – no mention of Tucker, no allusion to Tucker. Every piece of info we get is accredited to _me_.

“ In exchange: not only do you get all the eye-candy you can ask for  _ and _ a possible new Contract, but,” Felix hits the ‘t’ hard, “I’ll give you any information Legion gets on the guy once my part of the job is done. In fact, I’ll even help you get your grimy little hands on his… soul, dick, whatever it is you want. Hell knows  _ I _ don’t wanna have to look at him for months on end. You, on the other hand, seem…” Felix trails off dramatically, then shoots a glance Tucker’s way, “interested~”

Well, it is a tempting offer. Tucker’s all about temptation. He  _ is _ temptation, and that’s why he isn’t fooled by Felix’s offer: it reeks of a bad deal. But, fuck, is it tempting.

Tucker’s eyes linger on Felix’s brand. His gaze shifts between the glass of honey mead (bargaining 101) and the heavy-inked Liar’s burn on Felix’s left shoulder... before resigning himself to the photo once more.

“I thought that you couldn’t make deals or Contracts when you’re with a Legion?” Tucker asks before drinking whatever he’d spit back into the bottle.

After a sharp intake of breath, Felix admits, “Not personal ones, you can’t -- The, uh… those in the Legion can’t barter or Contract for personal gain, but-”

“So, you’re lying.” Tucker cuts Felix off. “Again.” His addition earns him a hard stare.

“ _ However _ ,” Felix growls, the word pushing pointedly through grit teeth, “We can make deals if they’re for Legion. But, I’m not actually in Legion yet, remember? They’re still trying to see whether or not I’m worth it.”

“ ‘Cuz you’re a Liar.”

“Yes, because I’m a Liar,  _ can you stop _ ?” Felix’s words are quick and frustrated, but for the sake of getting to the end of this quicker, Tucker lets Felix continue. “I’m not a Legionnaire yet so I can still forge my own Contracts and make deals and shit. And any Contracts or bargains forged  _ before _ official induction into the Legion are allowed to resolve after join-up.”

“Doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“Do you wanna chase cock or not? Because I can ask someone else.” Tucker stares up at the demon. “…Okay, fine, I can’t.” Felix folds arms at the admittance. “Maybe you’re the only one who talks to me anymore, and maybe that makes you the only one I can ask. Maybe.” Tucker looks Felix over, then glances down at the photo.

…He  _ is _ cute…

“How do I know you’re not lying about the Legion thing?”

“What would I gain from that?”

“I dunno, dude; I’m not a fuckin’ Liar.”

Felix throws hands in the air in surrender. “What do you want from me, a song and a dance? All I can do is say I’m being honest this time.” Tucker waits. “I’ll pinky promise if you want -- shit, I dunno.”

Tucker taps the bar with his beer bottle, looking between Felix and the photo again. He blows air out of his mouth, sucks on his teeth and takes one, last, long drink from his beer, emptying the contents.

“Tell ya’ what,” Tucker sets the bottle aside, and the lack of denial inspires Felix’s hopeful stare. “We’ll check him out. If he’s as hot as he looks here,  _ and _ if his being hot is worth it, then… fuck your reasons, I’ll take your bargain.” Felix grins. “If he’s not, you’re on your own.” Tucker holds up a hand for Felix to shake. “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” Felix grips his hand tight, shakes it roughly, and grins like a demon.

Tucker rolls his eyes and forces a tighter grip. “Gimmie an hour to wrap up”. 

“Uhhhh, no.” Felix says, releasing the handshake and babying his appendage. “This guy will be at Converge  _ tonight _ . We have to leave  _ now _ if you want to meet him.”   
“Woah, woah. Tonight?” Tucker shifts his feet unhappily. He is still in the middle of dinner, after all. The tension in the bar was the result of his own hard work, and it would be a shame to waste it. “I thought it was tomorrow or something. I have plans, dude. Did you not notice the slap fight from before has a potential round two?”

“Hot piece of ass.”

“Tonight it is.” 


	2. Prince Charming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Led through the mist  
> By the milk-light of moon  
> All that was lost is revealed.
> 
> Into the Unknown - Over The Garden Wall

In demon society, Converge acts as a flea market at the crossroads of reality.

Tonight’s a typical Converge. There’s a group of late-night bible-bumpers with picket signs reading ‘REPENT’ or whatever outside. Humans tend to like looking ridiculous. 

From a cozy spot on a nearby roof, Tucker and Felix scan the ground for Felix’s target.

"Is that him?" Tucker asks, squinting down at possible prey.

Felix simply glances in a direction and says, "No.... not him."

"How can you even tell? You can't see his face through the crowd." Considering the sizeable assembly, it’s hard to focus on any one figure. Tucker props his chin on the cusp of a ledge, trying to spy down through the mist rolling off the river. “This bites,” he grumbles, “I can’t see shit.”

Demons and non-demons alike can trade goods in Converge. People who want love, hope, rest or relief; for instance, earlier, Tucker passed a woman who was filled with the bitter-and-bile-tasting urge to rip out a man's throat with her own bare hands. He gave a hungry double-take as other demons did the same.

Lower-tiered demons (ones who haven’t resolved a Contract yet and are sparsely summoned) come for food. The higher-tiers come to advertise themselves. Non-demon patrons peddle their wares and sell what’s perishable and valuable. And, once in a while, (non-witchy) humans come to look at the magicky shit they think is gimmicky until a group of them ends up in a horror movie. Then there’s that Red Juice guy or that homeless-looking motherfucker who’s selling blood-stained stuff and locks of hair. They’re here, too.

“We’re not looking for his face," Felix says.

Tucker turns to Felix, one thumb hooked into his pocket with the picture in it.

"Just trust me,” Felix brushes the look away. “That won't be what you notice."

“What are we looking for, then?”

Felix scowled. “Oh, right. Asking you to patiently wait is like asking a newborn dog not to pee on the floor.”

“Fuck you, I’ll find out myself.” Tucker answers with a guttural noise, slumping on his stomach. 

“Don’t bother. There he is,” Felix snaps. Tucker notices the human before Felix even points a finger into the crowd. “Right there.”

Well, Felix was right about one thing - the guy wasn’t hard to spot.

His body lurches through the midnight fairgrounds with seemingly no purpose – slow, slumped, and swaying. Every slow and misplaced step is followed by three quick ones, setting him back on course. All of this was done with closed eyes.

The warm, magicked lights on the booths flicker tiny specks of light onto the various shiny things attached to the guy’s body.

“Lots of shiny shit,” Tucker turns to the Brand beside him. “Is his head turned off?" 

"He has them every time," Felix says. "I think something on there is a Charm but I don’t have anything definite." 

Tucker hums quietly at that. The guy certainly  _ seems _ charmed - hyperfocused, dead asleep and half-drunk all at once. Mind control and invasive magicks are common enough at Converge and relatively harmless. If he weren’t being puppeteered towards… wherever it was he needed to go, he’d be slumped over like a ragdoll, completely useless.

Which means someone slipped into his pretty little head and turn off all the important, self-thinking bits so they could use his brain-dead body like a robot. A drunk robot. If Tucker and Felix are right about This Guy’s suspicious amount of bling, then one of those shinies he’s got on has some kind of witch magic to control him.

Most, demons and humans alike, are either ignoring him, or watching his spectacle with a giggle and a glance. Others purposefully step into his path and watch the unnatural ways he’ll bend and twist and turn just to get around whoever’s in his way. And each time, this guy - that is, This Guy - swerves away with inhuman accuracy, just enough not to touch. Tucker wonders if any of them think he’s as bammin’ slammin’ bootylicious as Tucker does. The more higher up demons let him be - they’re probably too busy squabbling with each other to care about the unconscious, presumably free body stumbling and bumbling like a zombie.

“He’s something of a regular,” Felix says. “A silly little parlor trick. He only shows up once in a while, but it was enough to get our attention….. okay,  _ Legion _ ’s attention.”

“He just seems like a witch’s lackey to me,” Tucker dismisses. This was seeming more and more like some inane test for the Legion’s potential new minions. “One of your Legion’s higher-ups could’ve even charmed him,” Tucker suggests.

“Look, if I needed a sack of theories, I’d ask. I came up with most of yours last week, thanks,” Felix verbally cuts the added remark out of relevance, “You’re here to do the labor. Potentially.” 

Instead of answering, Tucker sits up on hands and knees and inches closer to the edge, knees halfway off the cusp of the roof. Palm placed on the hard brick of the building’s exterior, Tucker lets go and starts to crawl down the side, slow at first, then more quickly, as he descends down into the harbor fog, head crooked up to keep his eye on the target. If Felix is following, then there's catching up to do - a solitary Liar is just as much a meal as anyone else here.   
  
Tucker reaches the pavement and, in lieu of crawling onto dirt, pushes off the building’s side with his feet, bends to land on the ground, and pulls his hands off the bottom, assuming an upright position. Tucker hears Felix land behind him as he scans the crowd for the face that should be appearing riiight about-

Now.

It’s a one-second glimpse through the fog and faces of Converge, but Tucker spots the bleached-blonde hair, strong jawline and hung head quick enough to follow.

"Hey, he’s even hotter in person," Tucker murmurs as This Guy passes by.

"You’re still fifty feet away from him," Felix says this as if it’s important. 

Tucker hums to himself. “Good point. Better get closer then,” he says, stepping out from the sidelines and into the crowd proper. The nearby demons under his tier spread away to give Tucker a small, cleared-out circle to breathe in. Felix, who surges forward to follow, is pushed back by the swath of people suddenly pushing back. Tucker darts further into the crowd with an impish grin, ignoring the frustrated noises from the demon behind him. 

Even with a handful of magicky people between them, it’s not hard to keep track of This Guy - that is, this particular individual that Tucker assumes is a guy. Tucker can make those snug, rocking hips and can easily trail behind  _ that ass _ .

“Not a bad view from behind either,” Tucker grins, “Bow chika bow wow.”

There’s no response. Weird, Tucker never gets any kind of quiet when he’s with - Wait, where did Felix go?

Oh, nevermind. He sees Felix’s definitive push through the crowd and into Tucker’s small breathing circle. 

“Oh, hey. There you are.” Tucker smiles. “What took ya?”

Felix gives him a steady glower before running a hand through mussed hair, preening back into style.

“At least I’m eager to work?” Tucker shrugs, walking backwards towards the human and eventually, casually, Tucker’s bequeathed breathing space lapses in time with This Guy’s walking pattern. Without a need to swerve and dodge, his movements fall into line and Tucker can get a better look at his face now that the social contortionism has subsided.

Tucker swerves around, carefully, to get a better look at his hung-down, vacant face.

This Guy looks even better up close, the little details really bring his face all together. There’s a tiny scar or two on his neck, one across his eyebrow, and enough muscle to want to see more of it in better (naked-er?) circumstances.

“Fuck, this guy is  _ blank _ .” Tucker points at the guy’s closed eyes. “Look at this shit. Who charms their lackeys this obviously?” Tucker shuffles closer, pushes off the ground for height and moves his lips close to The Guy. "He̴y, li̛’l m̛a̧m͝a,̢ ͏lemmie͟ ̵w̵h͞i͟sper in yo̷u̡r e̴ar͠~” 

Felix snorts. 

"What? I wanted to see if he could hear me.” Tucker scoffs before turning back to the messenger. "Nothing?" He asks him. Dude just keeps walking. Tucker sidesteps and falls into pace alongside the human. "Well, damn!" Tucker’s cleared path provided a steadier line for him to walk, but This Guy doesn’t even notice. If people really wanted to be all up in This Guy’s junk like Tucker is, they would be.

“They can’t  _ completely _ tune out,” Felix rounds about, taking the opportunity to look him over. Felix snaps his fingers, close between This Guy’s eyes, waiting for a response and receives none. “...Usually.” Felix says warily, brows furrowed.

Did someone like this really merit Legion-level suspicion? 

Tucker looks the currently brain-numb human before him over again.

Oh. Freckles. Right at the corners, in small clumps. They’re close to his skin-color, but still there, like sprinkles on cake.

“Cute,” Tucker murmurs. He moves his hands close, fingers hovering over a bundle of freckles at his eyes, and feels a firm, glossy tension just underneath his fingers and just above the actual skin. Tucker’s hand repels by what feels like instinct - but probably isn’t - and pulls his hand back.

“Guy’s got a ward? maybe?” Tucker says. “S’weird to describe.” 

“Can you maybe try?”

“Gimmie a minute.” Tucker brushes Felix off, examining the curious human.

He inches his hand close again, and feels nothing. Closer still and finds the same resistance, mild though it may be. Almost touching, the tension pushes against his fingers, just as he hovers over This Guy’s cheekbones.

“Ohhh, I get it,” he murmurs to himself - and to the human, if he’s listening. “I can get close, but I can’t touch.” Handy, since the Converge tends to get thick with people and demons alike. A smart way to keep hungry demons from moving into his empty skull. Tucker pushes lightly and finds a bit of give, but the tension becomes… well, tenser. “Or, I shouldn’t touch?” His eyes stay closed, but his expression tightens the closer Tucker’s fingers get.

“You don’t like being touched?” Tucker asks, hands moving down as he watches the human breathe. His expression doesn’t change. “Or maybe you  _ do _ .” He goads with a grin, presses closer, slinking his fingers across the tension barrier on his chest.“Maybe you  _ like _ it. Maybe you like it too much. Maybe you’re sca̢ręd̶.” Closer now, fingers tickling at the open buttons by his collar, over whatever’s pinned inside the shirt pocket lingering over his heart. “D̶on͢’t͘ ̢b̡e s͠ça͡r̛e̷d̵-”

  
  


“S͉̯̲̥̬͉̹̙͈͚̤̣͓̻͍͕̳̭͍͌̈́̾́͡T̶̶͕̜͓͕̖̹͔͚̫͚͍̳̯̝͇ͣ̑̂͆̈́͒̿ͮ̆̓ͮ̈̋̋O̶̗̥͉̞͖̞̘̞͆̔̾ͨ̐͐ͨ́ͫ̒̅̊̎͒ͬ͒̓̈́̋ͅP̵̨̭̟̗̪͉͇͓̠͎͖̟̹̠ͯͥ̀ͦͪ̎ͣͪͦ͌̊͋ͫ͌̍͟͝”

 

And Tucker’s smacked backwards into a wall.  _ Hard. _

This Guy – this guarded, Charm-bound noise-maker – had stopped in his tracks like someone hit the brakes on his body. The word leaves his lips in a hollowed-out howl, echoing into eternity like a wave of  _ awful, fucking screeching. _

It’s only one word. It’s only one mindless bark into the air without any idea of who’s close or what’s happening. But the one word shot out and slammed Tucker and Felix outside the head and now is doing so inside the head as well. It echoes back on top of itself and the echo echoes back and the echo of the echo echoes back and soon it’s a thousand different layers of one word, all at once. Tucker covers his ears, but the painful ringing persists. The Converge comes to a still as the word-wave washes over every closed eye in the plaza, ringing in their heads like a church-bell after a night of sin. The humans stop first - they’re not sure why, but when everyone else begins to falter, they’re stilled in bewilderment. To the more finely-tuned, non-human ears at the Converge, this _sound_ permeates through the word and it lasts for what feels like forever. The word, ‘Stop’, is a siren sound, blaring out and in at a length of time in which entire lifetimes would start and end before it faded into something less painful. 

The word rakes into and over and down and Tucker can feel every second of that drag as it slowly dies down. 

When Tucker can hear again, the bustle of noise in the background only adds to the dull ache that the word-wave left in his head. His first thought, once he’s able to have them again, is that everything hurts, including thinking. The second is that if he moves, it’ll hurt more, so Tucker does his best to press himself still against whatever it is he’s pressed against. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t care. Everything hurts and he needs a second to get himself back.

Tucker slowly opens his eyes before wincing at the bright lights strung overhead. He can hear the murmurings of the other tiers - higher, lower, equal – in approximately the same way, on the ground, pressed to walls, moaning and whispering confusedly. He can see the unconscious bodies of various races and lower-tiers (and from the looks, the really low ones aren’t going to get back up). Even the humans are shaken up by….. whatever the hell just happened.

And This Guy is nowhere to be seen.

"Well," Felix rasps from the ground. "That’s… one way to get you off his ass.” There’s a sharp gasp as Felix pushes up, knees on the dirt, before gingerly rubbing the sore parts, “And get me on mine.”

Tucker shuffles upright again, managing a groan as his hand rubs his temples. “Like he’d want you on yours.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks, once again, to all my faves (prince_everhard of Tumblr, pilot479, and so many others back when this was all one big chapter) and my darling Taylor for editing and beta-ing this monster of a chapter. Oy. Here's hoping the next one gets put together much sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> A big, glorious shout-out to the heavens and the void itself for good buddyfriends prince-everhard, pilot479, and my lovely, wonderful soulmate tepperz for all the hard work we put into making this chapter as tight and clean as possible. I couldn't have done it without all of you. One chapter out, many more to come, and I'ms o, so grateful to everyone involved in helping me get this first step in the door.
> 
> Buckle up - it's gunna be a long haul.


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